


Howling King

by JackBivouac



Series: Legacy of Fire [4]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Bestiality, Bondage, Bukkake, Choking, Demon Sex, F/M, Gang Rape, Immobility, Monster sex, Multi, Other, Rape, Sexual Slavery, Size Difference, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackBivouac/pseuds/JackBivouac
Summary: New backstory/oneshots set in the Legacy of Fire world





	1. Save the Girl...Or Don't

Scrub brush and a patchy carpet of weeds invaded the decrepit monastery through fallen sections of its western wall. Most of the roof above its long promenade was gone, collapsed onto the floor nave, but several jagged pillars remained around a huge, bas-relief statue of a genie-blooded humanoid and saint of Sarenrae. 

St. Vardishal pointed toward Pale Mountain, largest of the Brazen Peaks. His face, once a picture of mortal concern, had been graffitied into buffoonery with thick smears of pugwampi dung.

“Fucking gremlins,” muttered Daryun, drawing his dagger. The shaitan-blooded sorcerer cast magic weapon. The blade glowed metallic black, the same hue as the caster’s own skin, eyes, and feather-like spikes of hair.

He stalked past the desecrated statue and kicked the wooden doors open with a thundering bang and rusted screak. The bestial pugwampis, fey creatures resembling revolting lapdogs that had learned to walk on their back legs, did not stop their activities so much as turn their heads to stare insensibly at the intruder.

There before the orange and red starburst of Sarenrae, filthy and rusted, stood a wide marble bench upon the smashed planks of the wooden altar. A blindfolded human had been forced upon the bench, on her knees, her naked breasts pressed to the stone, her ass in the air, and her entire body coated in cum. Her arms had been bent and bound behind her back, hands flopping uselessly under either elbow. Her ankles were shackled together by a short chain connected to a longer one that ran up her back, wound around her rope-bound arms, and latched to a slave collar around her neck.

Two pugwampis held her by the sweat-tangled locks of her black hair as they pistoned their tiny, knotted dicks into her mouth. There was a gremlin at either ear, likewise pumping away. Two pugwampis squatted behind her, churning her sloppy pussy. Two more braced their spindly bodies on either asscheek, shoving their cocks in her anus.

Fucked by these one-foot feral dogs within an inch of her life, the poor slave girl was even less cognizant of Daryun’s presence than the blissed-out gremlins. He was going to kill every last one of them.

“DIE, you dog-faced fucks!”

He flung out his empty hand at the gremlins. A ray of black, acidic metal flew at the pugwampi fucking the slave girl’s skull through her nearest ear. The gremlin screamed, dissolving into a hissing puddle of sickly green flesh.

The violent, liquidizing demise of their brethren finally got through to the beasts. They broke away from their fuckmeat and ran at Daryun with high-pitched yapping, drawing tiny but wickedly sharp daggers in hand.

Fortunately for the sorcerer, the dumb animals came at him from the single, front-facing direction. Daryun raised his hand to an upright palm. “Melt, bitches.”

A cone of metallic acid blasted from the heart of his palm, splashing every last one of the pugwampis. Where the droplets touched, they bored, burning sizzling, melting holes through the gremlins.

The entire gang slopped to their knees in a screaming puddle of green. Daryun stepped around the pool of their oozifying bodies and jogged to the slave girl trembling in her shameful nakedness and bonds upon the marble bench.

She had to be genie-blooded like himself, a common circumstance of birth here in Katapesh. Her skin, though soiled with the gremlins' filth, was the hue of golden sunlight. 

He removed her blindfold. One eye was every shade of rosy dawn, the other of orange sunset. Such a slave must have been worth a fortune.

"It's going to be alright," said Daryun, cutting the ropes around her arms. "What's your name?"

"N-Nebi."

Unfortunately for Nebi, the taut chain from her ankles to arms to collar held her in place. Daryun cursed. He didn't have time to search for the key right now, not while other hostiles still roamed the monastery grounds.

"Can you be very quiet?"

She answered with a soundless nod.

He shot her a quick, tight smile, wrapped his arms behind her knees and around her chest, and picked the slave girl's curled, bound body off the bench. He laid her down on her side in the shadows and shelter of an overturned bench. 

Her skylit eyes widened in panic. "Y-you're leaving me?"

"I'll be back soon, Nebi. Please, you have to trust me."

"I don't even know your name," she rasped from the floor, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"My name's Daryun. I'll be back. I give you my word." For what it was worth, as a mercenary.


	2. Ooze It or Lose It

The painted, now shit-graffitied walls narrowed around Daryun as he proceeded further into the monastery. Depictions of the genie-blooded saint battling poop-mustachioed creatures of fire followed him all the way to a life-sized state of St. Vardishal, its marble face marred by numerous blows from blunt objects. Its handless limbs, bent at the elbow, were held out before it, expectant.

Daryun snorted. Good thing it couldn’t see him because he wasn’t about to help find its hands. Or face.

Instead, the mercenary squeezed around the defaced saint to the half-masked door in its shadow. Judging by the door’s resistance to opening, the pugwumpis hadn’t discovered this section of the monastery. Which by no means meant it was empty.

Daryun, having no need of a torch, followed stone steps down into a musty, coffin-like undercrypt. Despite the coolness, a heated silence pervaded the bone-niched passage, prickling his skin. At the end of the dark corridor, was a door.

Daryun shook off his unease. It helped to think about the money he was about to get off Lady Almah for this shit. Maybe a taste of junior pactmaster’s shapely body as well.

He grunted with the slightest upward curve on his lips and kicked open the heavy wooden door. His brow furrowed in confusion. “What the…?”

Wide workbenches at the walls were covered in a bewildering array of glass beakers, tubes, alembics, and other alchemical tools. A massive basalt table dominated the center of the room, flanked by two tables of surgical tools and sheaves of crumbling parchment.

The walls of this underground laboratory were clearly fashioned from the rock beneath the monastery. The floor, however, was tile regularly interrupted by metal drains the size of dinner plates. Some kind of dried, aquamarine substance crusted the lines between the tiles and the bars of the drains.

Daryun let out a breath of relief. There was nobody here. As he turned to go, his foot slipped out from under him. He windmilled wildly to regain his balance.

And spotted the six-foot blob of ooze underfoot. It came from the drain, reaching thick, sticky tendrils up his leg.

Daryun roared and sliced through the aquamarine blob. A second dropped from a ceiling pipe onto his head, engulfing it. Ooze squeezed into his ears, nose, and mouth, fully filling each orifice it entered. He dropped his dagger, tearing with his bare hands to try and rip the sticky blob out of his mouth.

The ooze constricted around his throat, choking off his air. Daryun fell to the ground, the oozes around his legs now slithering up his pants. More sticky, heavy blobs grappled his arms, pinning them to the floor within their aquamarine mass.

Without a proper breath, he could barely manage a kick as the oozes engulfing his legs pushed into his anus and swallowed his dick and balls. The ooze pumped and squeezed.

Suffocated screams rang through his skull. But Daryun, his body fully engulfed by oozes, was entirely pinned in place, immobile within their pistoning, dick-sucking mass.

The oozes pounded his choking body through the ass, mouth, nose, and ears, ripping each and every shaft apart with their ravenous undulations. At the same time, they slurped and squeezed tighter and tighter around Daryun’s cock until he was sure he would burst along with his dying lungs.

As darkness swam before his eyes, spears of white hot pleasure lanced out from his tortured head and anus. Cum burst from his cock. In his orgasmic shock, Daryun swallowed down the aquamarine ooze in his throat.

The mercenary slipped into the darkness...and light. The last thing he saw was the blurred, aquamarine-glowing outline of St. Vardishal himself.


	3. Get That Goat

It could have been minutes or hours, but when Daryun finally awoke, he was alone in the darkness of the monastery’s secret laboratory. There was not a trace of his blobby rapists, not even a single crusted line of aquamarine between the now pristine floor tiles.

The sorcerer picked himself up with a shake of his head and heavy sigh of exasperation. The longer he practiced magic, the more fucking inexplicable the gods-damned thing became. Rules? What rules?

He spat into a drain and stalked back up from the undercrypt. As he neared the central chapel where he’d left the pugwampis’ cum toilet, the clink of chains, thump of bodies, and low, animal grunts slowed his steps. No way in fuck was he getting caught off guard again.

Daryun cast magic weapon upon his dagger once more. As the blade lit with the black light of his shaitan magic, he cast a second spell upon himself. His lean muscles thickened and broadened over his narrow frame, granting the slight man unsuspected strength. Thus readied, the mercenary padded into the pillar-cast shadows of the chapel.

The softly sobbing slave girl, Nebi, had been bent over the upturned marble bench. The chains binding her arms behind her back and forcing her body into a curl left both her lolling head and twitching, jerking feet dangling off the floor.

Behind her, a hulking, seven-foot humanoid demon with the head, hide, and curling horns of a monstrous goat pistoned their massive twin cocks up her well-wetted ass and pussy. Each gut-pounding ram split her squelching shafts and mercilessly ground her cunt against the bench’s edge.

The schir’s nostrils twitched. They raised their head, locking yellow eyes with Daryun in the shadows. Their mouth spread in a massive, human-toothed grin. With a raucous bleat, the goat demon came into both of the slave girl’s deepest cavities.

Nebi spasmed with a half-sobbed, half-pleasured moan despite herself. The schir pulled their massive, animal dicks out and all the rigidity left her chained body. She collapsed limp as a corpse and fell behind the bench into a breathless heap of cum-leaking flesh.

The demon kicked her aside with a cloven hoof and vaulted over the bench. Into Daryun’s striking range.

“Finally!” He swung his dagger, slashing a thin line into the schir’s shaggy hide.

The demon bleated tauntingly, slinging a wickedly spiked halberd from behind their back. The blades gouged deep scores into Daryun’s chest. As he shifted aside from the worst of the jab, the schir rammed their head, goring his shoulder with a twisted horn.

“Fuck!” Daryun screamed, slamming his palm into the top of the schir’s skull. Metallic acid exploded point-blank onto the demon’s head.

The schir bleated more in rage than pain, its shaggy fur taking most of the sizzling blast. They threw the sorcerer off their head and thrust their spiked halberd at his flying body. The blades pierced his chest and ruptured out through his back.

Blood splattered from Daryun’s mouth and ran down the impaling shaft of the halberd. The demon grinned human-toothed in victory.

“N-no,” a weak voice rasped from the corner of the bench. Nebi, having inched like a worm into line of sight, raised the fingers of nearest hand behind her back. A searing beam of golden fire blasted from her fingertip into the schir’s ribcage.

The demon broke into derisive, bleating laughter. They flung Daryun off their halberd. With a blurring spin, they plunged its bloodied spikes into the slave girl’s naked stomach.

Nebi’s skylit eyes bulged. Her mouth gurgled blood. The schir twisted the spikes deeper into her impaled gut.

Daryun’s dagger struck from below. With both hands around the hilt, he ran up behind the demon and rammed his black-limned blade up their goat-tailed asshole.

The schir screamed, yanking their halberd free. But the mercenary wasn’t finished. Before the demon could turn, he slashed the blade forward, slicing through anal wall, intestines, and all the way out through their lower belly.

The schir’s disemboweled guts slopped and splattered to the floor. The demon’s body followed, their wicked halberd clattering still.

Daryun whipped out a wand of curing. He administered the necessary charges to himself before jogging over to the slave girl. Her eyelids fluttered with consciousness, but it wouldn’t last.

He tapped her with the wand. As the healing charges spread through her body and closed her wounds, her breathing steadied. Her gaze focused on his face.

“Thanks, Daryun,” she breathed.

“I should be thanking you,” he grinned, wiping the last of the blood off his mouth.

“I’d settle for just getting out of these chains,” she joked weakly.

“You got it, Nebi.”


End file.
